


Hero

by JourneyFairfeather



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JourneyFairfeather/pseuds/JourneyFairfeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma visits Fitz the night after the HYDRA raid and tries to tell him how she feels, but sometimes words just aren't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero

“Fitz?” Jemma slowly walked through what was left of The Bus’ common room, her heart still racing at the sight of shattered windows that hadn’t been replaced, at broken tables and bullet-riddled walls and chairs. It would take much longer than one night to make the plane feel a little more like home again. “Fitz? Where are you?”

He didn’t answer, but she noticed that the partition to his bunk was closed, unlike all the others. Moving closer, she reached out carefully and knocked. “Fitz? It’s me.”

After a moment, the handle turned, and the door slid open just a bit. She took that as an invitation and slipped through, closing it tight behind her. Fitz sat on the edge of his bed, his head down, his hands folded and hanging between his knees. “Hey...” she murmured.

When he lifted his eyes to hers, she was stunned to see he was crying, and she immediately sat down beside him, her fingers sliding over his hands, holding them between her own. “Oh, Fitz, what’s wrong?”

Fitz’s voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear, and she leaned in closer to catch his response. “Garrett... Garrett basically said you were dead.” He turned slightly, unable to meet her eyes, instead settling his gaze on her wrists where they rested on his thigh. “I lost it, Jem. All I could think about was getting revenge. I wanted to make them pay for what they did to us - for what they did to _you_.” He exhaled heavily. “I...shot a man.”

“Fitz...”

“He was going after May. I didn’t think - I _couldn’t_ think. I just aimed and pulled the trigger. And it wasn’t a Night-Night pistol. It was a real gun. I shot someone because I couldn’t let him kill May the way they’d killed you.”

Jemma couldn’t speak, but it wasn’t out of anger or fear. It was shock...and overwhelming gratitude. She let go of his hands and reached up to lift his chin so he was looking at her. “Fitz,” she breathed, brushing the tears on his cheeks away with her thumbs. “Always the hero.” She leaned in, capturing his lips with her own, dropping her hands and wrapping her arms around him.

He was hesitant at first, but was soon kissing her back. He held her like she was a dream, like she’d slip away as soon as he let go. “Jemma, Jemma, I’m sorry,” he murmured between kisses. “I’m so sorry.”

She simply kissed him deeper, pulling him with her as she shifted to lie back on the bed. He cupped the back of her head, his other hand at her waist, his thumb on the bare skin where her blouse rode up over the top of her skirt. “Fitz, _please_.” She pulled her lips from his, looking up at him.

“Jemma, I...” He stopped, watching her, and she could feel his heart racing under his t-shirt. “Oh, bloody hell.” He took control, slanting his lips over hers and pushing his free hand further under her top. She gasped against his mouth when his fingers brushed her breast, her nipple straining against the cotton of her bra. He played with her through the soft material, hungrily trailing his lips away from hers and down the line of her jaw. She combed her fingers through his hair, breathing hard as his tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat and his fingers pushed her bra out of the way.

Jemma had had more dreams about Fitz and his hands than she’d ever dared to count, but nothing, _nothing_ prepared her for reality. He moved so quickly she barely realized what was happening, but suddenly, her blouse was gone and her bra straps were down around her biceps, and his palms were pressed to her breasts as his lips traced a line down the space between them. She groaned as he moved to kiss her right breast, his thumb brushing over the little birthmark just underneath it, and then on to her left.

“Fitz...” she sighed, trying to pull him back up to her. He smiled against her skin and pushed up on his elbows, his hands now curling over her shoulders. “Come here.”

“What are we doing?” he whispered as he kissed her again.

“What we should have done ages ago.” _Before it seemed like death might beat us to each other_. She blinked away the thought and met his eyes again. She saw the fear behind his smile and resolved to take his mind off everything for just a little while, at least. “And you, Agent Fitz, are wearing far too much clothing.”

Fear was replaced with embarrassment as a blush crept over his face, making his light freckles stand out even more. Jemma grinned and tugged on his shirt, making both of them sit up a little straighter so she could pull it off. She ran feather-light fingertips over his chest before pressing her lips to a cluster of freckles just above his belly button. He groaned and pushed her back to the mattress, falling on top of her.

In between kisses and murmurs, (always “Jemma” or “Jem” but never “Leo”,) they somehow managed to end up with nothing between them except a light sheen of sweat. Jemma’s hair had come loose from its ponytail and now lay fanned out under her head, strands tangled in Fitz’s fingers, little tendrils of soft waves falling over her forehead as she moaned and arched underneath him.

“Fitz.”

At the sound of his name, he moved his hand from between her legs and brushed his nose against her shoulder. “Mmm?”

“Enough.” She ran her nails down his chest and his eyes all but rolled back in his head. He took the hint and carefully rolled away from her, reaching into the little drawer in the shelves over the bed. He had the foil packet out and open almost before she could blink, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off him as he rolled the condom on. _This is real, Jemma. Are you ready for this_? When he shifted back to her, his face full of love and respect and his fingers gripping her hips, she knew her answer.

“Yes...” she hissed as he pushed into her. “Oh, god, _Fitz_.”

He stopped, inside her to the hilt, and met her eyes. “Are you okay, Jem?”

She replied by pulling his lips down to hers. “Go,” she breathed. He smirked and pulled back, beginning a rhythm that her heartbeat tried to match. She felt like she was on a roller coaster, climbing slowly to the top, waiting, waiting for the drop. Fitz broke the kiss, dropping his forehead to the curve where her neck met her shoulder, gasping her name over and over, peppered with oaths and the occasional Scottish curse. She clung to him, her nails scratching the skin under his hairline, her body rocking with his, her back curving to press herself as close to him as possible. He nipped at her throat, and the ripple of pleasure spread from there all the way to her center.

“Fitz, I...”

“I know, I know,” he huffed, lifting his head. She looked up into his face, soft and flushed, eyes shining and a slight smile on his lips. “Come on, baby girl.”

Jemma felt her orgasm starting, and she gripped Fitz’s shoulders so tightly she was sure she was hurting him, but when she looked at him again, his eyes were closed and the expression on his face was definitely not one of pain. He thrust harder, rougher, and she cried out, her muscles tensing and her whole body arcing as she came. He followed her seconds later, her name bursting from him like a violent prayer, and he collapsed on top of her, his cheek pressed to her collarbone, his breath ragged and hot over her chest as she stroked his hair.

When she caught her breath, she finally realized she had the words. The words she didn’t have when she kissed him, the words she hoped her body had expressed, but the words she desperately wanted him to hear.

“Fitz?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.” He lifted his head and looked at her. She smiled gently. “You’re not just _the_ hero. You’re _my_ hero.”

Fitz propped himself up in an elbow and brushed her cheek with his fingers. “If you think so, then I must be.”

Jemma leaned in and kissed him softly. “Sleep, Fitz.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, Fitz and Jemma managed to keep away the nightmares.


End file.
